


Pretending

by kronette



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1848346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Veronica_Rich's fault, who challenged me on Tumblr thusly: If you want a REAL challenge, you’ll come up with a reason for them to have to pretend to date 3 million years out in deep space without invoking Lister’s GELF bride. I double dog dare you. </p><p>Challenge accepted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretending

Rimmer felt his eye twitch as his mind tried desperately to forget the conversation that had just happened. But Lister, with his impeccable timing, strolled into their quarters at just that moment. 

"Do you know what's up with Cat? I just passed him and he was grumbling to himself about selfish people." 

Rimmer's eye twitched again as he shuddered. "Ngghhh," was all his mouth was able to formulate. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lister backtrack and lean over him, his expression perplexed. 

"Rimmer, man, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost or someone asked to borrow ten dollarpounds off of you." 

His eye twitched a third time. Despite his best efforts to shut down his memory, the image of Cat licking his incisors presented itself front and center to his brain. Horrified, Rimmer shoved back from the table and began to pace, his hands pressing harder and harder against his skull, trying to force the image away. 

"Rimmer, what the smeg?" As he tried to walk around Lister, the annoying bastard managed to continually step in his way, forcing him to stop and attempt to move around him. "Hey, stop, will ya?"

Rimmer hissed as hands on his arms stopped his momentum. "Let me _go_ , Lister," he snarled and jerked his body out of Lister's grasp. "I have to keep moving so I can't think." 

Rimmer let out a helpless wail as the bloody, goited fool innocently asked, "Why don't you want to think?"

"Because I don't want to remember what Cat just asked me, and oh smegging hell," Rimmer groaned and bent over, covering his head with his arms. It didn't stop the words, it didn't stop the images, it didn't stop the nausea…

"Arnold, man, _talk to me_ ," Lister's voice was concerned, desperate, worried. "What the smeg did Cat ask you that could cause all this?" 

He started to hyperventilate just _thinking_ about it. "He said … he said he wanted me…to…to help him…" 

" _What_?" Lister demanded when Rimmer's voice trailed off. "Organize his shoe collection? Press his suits? _Wash_ his suits?" 

Squeezing his eyes closed, Rimmer muttered the most terrifying words in the English language: "Deflower him." 

Silence. More silence. Rimmer cracked an eye open, exasperation exploding out of him at Lister's befuddled expression. "He wants me to pop his cherry, you gimboid! Devirginize him, shag him, bugger him, shove my love stick up his arse and give it to him good and proper!" Horrified, painful silence, then Rimmer howled, " _OH SMEG_ I need brain bleach," and collapsed into the chair he'd abandoned and rested his forehead on the table. 

Lister's silence was broken by a faint, confused question: "Cat is a virgin?" 

Rimmer's voice grew in pitch and volume as he decried, "That's all you can say? That's your total contribution to the suffering I'm currently undergoing? 'Cat is a virgin'?" 

"Well, I didn't know, now did I?" Lister huffed. "It's not like he's asked _me_ to…you know." 

Rimmer gently thumped his forehead on the table. "Copulate? Bang him? Bonk him? Share carnal relations?" 

"All right, I get it," Lister placated him, then fell blissfully silent for a long moment. "Why did he ask you, anyway? What's wrong with me?"

The only highlight of the entire encounter caused Rimmer to smile…very faintly. "He said I had a pleasant non-smell and I was meticulously tidy." 

Rimmer's smile curved ever so slightly into a smirk at Lister's expression of offense: "I can be tidy!"

Rimmer snorted. "Lister, you can't even spell 'tidy'." 

Lister grumbled under his breath; they both knew Lister was a terrible speller. Changing tactics, Lister asked rather petulantly, "Are you saying I'm unshaggable?" 

Sitting up straight, Rimmer allowed his smirk to bloom. "I'm only relaying what the Cat told me." 

Lister's eyes narrowed. "Keep it up and I won't help you out of this mess." 

Rimmer started to laugh, but it died quickly as Lister fixed him with a serious expression. "You can't tell me that in the span of five minutes, you've come up with a plan to stop Cat from harassing me about having," he shuddered, "sex with him."

Lister hopped up onto his bunk and leaned back on one elbow, his eyes shadowed. "Yeah, and if you want to hear it, you best start being nice to me, lover." 

Rimmer blinked. Then blinked some more. "What did you just call me?" 

Lister casually inspected his fingernails. "Well, you can't very well cheat on me with Cat, can you? We just pretend we're sleeping together and he'll have no choice but to give up on you." 

He spluttered, wondering when his life had become a bad sitcom on Channel 29. "You can't be serious," he hedged, but then Lister looked right at him. "You _are_ serious. Have you gone space crazy? Why would Cat believe such a preposterous lie?" 

Lister grinned, and it spoke of dread and humiliation for Rimmer. "Because we'll lay it on real thick-like." 

Rimmer's eyes closed, resigning himself to a fate only slightly better than the one presented to him not fifteen minutes ago. "How do you propose we do that?" 

"Date," came the calm reply. 

Rimmer's eyes popped open. "Beg pardon?"

"We'll date. Not _really_ date, like kissing and stuff, but," Lister shrugged and made outlandish swoops of his arms, "date." 

"Date," Rimmer repeated flatly. 

"Date," Lister confirmed with the faintest hint of a smile.

Rimmer couldn't decide which fate was worse; actually performing a sexual act with a being that had feline DNA, or pretending to date the subspecies of humans, Dave Lister. Half of him abhorred the idea of even pretending to like Lister, while the other half was still huddled in a fetal position from Cat's suggestion. "Fine. Whatever. When do we start?" 

Lister hopped down from the bunk and sat on the edge of the table near Rimmer's hand. "Now's good for me. You never know when Cat might come back and demand…" 

"Right, right, no need to remind me," Rimmer snapped. "What do you want me to do?" 

Lister gently placed his hand over Rimmer's, and it took all of Rimmer's willpower not to yank his hand away. "First, we need to get used to touching each other. You can't have that look of revulsion on your face if you're supposed to like me." 

"But Cat isn't even around," he protested weakly as his hand warmed under Lister's. 

Lister's fingers stroked along the top of his hand, pushing up into his sleeve. "So now's a good time to practice, yeah? When he can't see us getting used to each other." 

Rimmer swallowed and whispered, "Okay."

Lister leaned toward him and the whiff of stale cigarettes wasn't as disgusting as it should have been. "You should get used to touching me, too," was murmured near his ear, and a different sort of shiver went through Rimmer. 

Hesitantly, Rimmer placed his free hand on Lister's knee, relieved to only feel worn leather. A muscle jumped beneath his hand, startling him. Fascinated by the subtle movements, Rimmer tightened his grip slightly, moving his hand up past Lister's knee to the wider part of his leg. 

"We'll still need to argue and all that smeg, because couples do that all the time," Lister was saying, but Rimmer was transfixed by Lister's breath near his ear and Lister's fingers wrapped around his wrist and the heat that was slowly seeping through the leather beneath his hand. 

"So how about it?" 

Rimmer shook himself, not having a goited clue what Lister was talking about. "Er, yes, sounds fine," he babbled, hoping he wasn't agreeing to anything too embarrassing. 

The breath stuttered in his chest as Lister removed his hand from his skin and flashed a cocky smile. "See you tonight at dinner then, lover-boy." With a saucy wink, Lister slid off the table and walked out the door, leaving Rimmer sitting at the table, stunned.

"What the _smeg_ just happened to my life?" 

=-=-=

Dinner consisted of sitting next to Lister in the midsection, which wasn’t all that bad as Rimmer was spared actually seeing Lister chew with his mouth open. It was the little nudges beneath the table that unnerved him. Lister had sat close enough to him that their thighs were touching, and every once in awhile, Lister's hand would brush Rimmer's as he reached for his can of lager. 

Cat danced into the midsection halfway through the meal, oblivious to Lister's closeness as he preened in Rimmer's direction. "Sorry I'm late, but _some_ of us still believe in dressing properly for dinner." 

Rimmer clutched at Lister's arm as the Cat's eyes swept over him hungrily. A confused frown lasted about a nanosecond on Cat's features before he grinned toothily. "Looking sharp tonight, Rimmer." 

Lister thankfully swallowed the food he was masticating before turning to Rimmer with a wide smile. "Yeah, he does." 

Odd flutters careened around inside Rimmer's chest at the soft look in Lister's eyes. 

"What would you know about it, Bud?" Cat sneered as he sat down and flicked a napkin over his lap. "You wear the same shirt every day."

To stave off the panic he could feel rising, Rimmer blurted out, "Lister has been known…" he licked his lips, "to dress up. For special occasions. Sometimes." 

Lister shot him a cheeky grin and winked. "That's the last time I wear a bow tie for you, Rimmer." 

Rimmer frowned. Lister had never worn a bow tie in his life, he was sure of it. And he certain hadn't…oh. _Oh_. It was part of the plan. He forced his mouth into a teasing smile. "That's a shame," he intended for it to come out louder than the low murmur, and he felt a flush creep up his neck. "I'm tired," he announced and stood up, banging his hip on the table. "I'm going to bed." 

He pointedly did not look at Lister or Cat as he limped away, but he could feel both sets of eyes on him as he climbed the steps. 

=-=-=-=

To Rimmer's increasing worry, Cat remained oblivious through their next five 'dates', either winking at him or outright propositioning him. Lister, to his credit, didn't tease him. In fact, Lister looked slightly nauseated as well, and held Rimmer's hand just a bit tighter after Cat had danced out of the cinema yowling. 

It was just as bad during his next film date with Lister. Forced to sit through _It's a Wonderful Life_ and hold Lister's greasy, salt-encrusted hand, Rimmer's glances at Cat showed the feline half asleep. At least Rimmer thought Cat had been sleeping, until he saw Cat wink at him and tensed. 

Lister squeezed his hand and leaned in to murmur, "Breathe, Rimmer." 

The brush of lips against his cheek caused those odd flutterings to start up again and Rimmer let out a soft breath that ended on the tiniest of moans. He took a deep breath, then another, rolling his shoulders to shake out the tension. He tried to concentrate on the movie, but he could see Cat's eyes glowing in the half light and they were fixed on him. 

As the end credits rolled and the house lights came up, Cat stood up with a graceful stretch and strode out of the cinema with a lingering glance and a wink to Rimmer. 

Annoyed, Rimmer turned to Lister. "It’s not working. I think we're being too subtle." 

Lister chewed on the end of his hair and shrugged. "Could be. What do you suggest we try next?" 

"I don't know," Rimmer whined. "Something bolder. Maybe holding hands in the cockpit or using pet names or something." 

"You really want to hold hands in the cockpit?" Lister asked with raised eyebrows. 

"Of course not!" Rimmer replied, but not before he felt the familiar heat on his upper chest and neck. "But he's clearly not getting the message that I'm not available." 

Lister sighed. "Rimmer, it's only been a week. If we really _had_ been together awhile, we've kept it secret, yeah? How could Cat know that something's changed if he didn't know about it in the first place?" Lister scratched his head and stared up at the ceiling. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we do need to be a bit bolder, to show him that you're taken." 

Rather proud of coming up with a solution, Rimmer nodded. "Good. So, tomorrow morning we'll walk into the cockpit together, holding hands. And then what?" 

Lister's gaze drifted to the far wall. "You can call me 'Listy'. That's a bit more intimate than 'Lister'." 

Rimmer scoffed. "I call you that all the time. It doesn’t mean anything." He grew uncomfortably warm as an idea came to him. His voice was quiet as he suggested, "'Dave' might get his attention, though." 

Lister's eyes met his. "And I'd call you Arnold, yeah? Or Arn?" 

"Either is fine," Rimmer dismissed with bravado he didn't feel. All he felt was confused and slightly nauseated, remembering why he was going to such lengths. 

=-=-=-=

Cat didn't even show up in the cockpit until ten minutes before the end of shift change, and was too preoccupied with a crease in his lapel to notice any of Rimmer and Lister's more intimate name-calling. 

He did, however, look directly at Rimmer and ask, "Hey Rimmer, does next Saturday work for you?" 

Making a few squeaking sounds, Rimmer fled the cockpit to the safety of their quarters. Lister followed moments later, looking somber. "I'm sorry, man. Maybe it's best if you just tell him straight out that you're not interested." 

Rimmer lifted his head from where he'd buried it in his hands and glared at his insufferable roommate. "Don't you think I told him that first thing? He didn't believe me when I said I wasn't interested in him. He's so self-centered, he thinks everyone is in love with him." He shook his head and stared morosely at his hands resting loosely in his lap. "I don't know what to do, Listy." 

It was a testament to how often he'd been touched in the past week that he only inhaled sharply as Lister picked up his hands and ran his thumbs over the backs. "Hey," Lister said softly, drawing his gaze. "We'll think of something. He's only a cat; maybe we can distract him with something else." 

Rimmer smiled ruefully. "I don't think a piece of string and a shiny object are going to distract him from this particular itch he wants scratched, Lister." 

Lister suddenly chuckled. "Tia Carmichael." 

"Who?" Rimmer asked, confused at the random name. 

Lister's eyes were sparkling with excitement. "Tia Carmichael. I was desperately in love with her, but she wouldn't give me the time of day. I chased her for two months, begging her to go out with me." 

"Did she take out a restraining order?" Rimmer asked dryly. 

Lister shot him a withering look. "I saw her and her boyfriend snogging right outside my English class. I got the message and left her alone." 

The faint amusement Rimmer felt at Lister's humiliation was crushed beneath the implication of what Lister was suggesting. "You're not suggesting…you're not implying that we…" 

"Snog where Cat will be sure to see us?" Lister finished with a catch to his voice. "I don't see another way, Rimmer. If you've done told him you don't want to and he's seen us holding hands and he still thinks you're going to do it, I don’t know what else will put him off." 

Rimmer felt his lips trembling. "But an actual kiss, on the mouth. I don't even like you," he blurted out. 

Lister scowled and dropped his hands. "Cheers, man. I'm doing this to help _you_." 

Guilt gnawed at Rimmer's insides. "I'm sorry. It's just…this has got my head all turned around." He reached out and caught up Lister's hand in his. "I appreciate you trying to help. I do. It's just…" he flailed for words, but ended up shrugging helplessly. 

"It's strange," Lister agreed to his wordless plea. 

He nodded, feeling out of sorts and all jumbly inside. "Don’t tell me," he asked. "Just do it when I’m not expecting it." 

Lister pinned him with a sharp look. "What makes you think I want to kiss you? Why don't you surprise me when we're walking past Cat in the corridor or something?" 

Instant, overwhelming panic had him breathing hard and clutching at his stomach. "I can't do this," he wailed mournfully. "I can't keep pretending to like you and I can't pretend to kiss you like I mean it." 

Lister's voice was intense and quiet. "Even after all this, you still don't like me?" 

He shook his head. "I didn't mean it like…this isn't _real_. We're pretending so I don't have to have sex with the Cat. I have to keep that at the front of my mind so I don't lose my nerve or go stark-raving mad." Rimmer could hear Lister's tight breaths over his own harsh panting. It was a lie. He knew it, and he suspected Lister knew it, but he had to keep pretending. He couldn't accept that he liked Lister, that he wanted to hold his hand that he wanted to kiss him. This was all to dissuade Cat. Nothing more. Nothing less. Nothing _more_. 

"Fine," Lister barked. "I'll kiss you in front of Cat so there's no mistaking our intentions. But if he still thinks you're going to shag him after that, I'm done." 

Rimmer kept his head down and his gaze on the floor. "It's more than I would have done," he rasped. 

"You're damn right it is," Lister faltered, then strode out of their quarters, leaving Rimmer to bury his head in his hands once again. 

=-=-=-=

They half-heartedly attempted a few more dates, the last ending in an awkward tangle of limbs as Lister crashed into Rimmer on the roller skating rink floor. Noses almost touching, the wind knocked out of Rimmer and Lister breathing hard, Rimmer had felt every inch of Lister's body pressed against his. He froze, terrified to move a muscle as Lister pushed and crawled and slid off of him. He didn't take Lister's offered hand, instead he ripped off his skates and hurried past Cat as quickly as he could to the engine room to hide for a few hours. 

=-=-=-=

Rimmer was sat at the table repainting his Armée du Nord when Cat danced his way into their quarters with a yowl and a spin. Rimmer glanced up and his stomach plummeted to his toes. Cat was in the deepest red suit he'd ever seen, with ruffles at this neck and wrists and a bouquet of flowers in one hand. 

Rather than an elegant speech or flowery prose, Cat hissed, "I'm tired of waiting, Rimmer. Let's get to the doing." 

In the uneasy silence that followed, Lister jumped down out of his bunk where he'd been reading a comic book and stepped in front of Cat. "He's not interested, Cat," Lister stated. 

Cat sniffed. "Of course he is; who wouldn't be? I'm perfection. If I was bottled, I'd be priceless." 

Rimmer's eyes widened as Lister took a step when the Cat moved, then again when Cat tried to get around him. 

"Look Bud, I'm trying to be nice," Cat said as he raised his hands. "But you're starting to interfere with my natural animal magnetism." 

"I'm going to interfere with your face if you don't leave him the smeg alone," Lister growled, forcing Cat back a step. "He told you he didn't want to have sex with you." 

Watching Lister standing up for him, defending him, twisted something in Rimmer's chest. His heart pounding, Rimmer shakily pushed himself to his feet, swallowing as he caught Cat staring at him. 

"You don't know what you're talking about," Cat dismissed Lister with a knowing smile. "See? He's getting up so we can go someplace less crowded." 

Rimmer kept hold of Cat's gaze as he reached out for Lister's shoulder, slowly turned him around and awkwardly pressed their lips together. His eyes slipped closed as Lister gently shifted his lips until they were perfectly aligned, the heat of Lister's mouth causing him to moan. He felt a hand touch his cheek and shivered, pulling Lister against his body to feel just how much he was enjoying this.

Cat's voice sounded very distant. "Does this mean you won't have sex with me? Rimmer? Rimmer! Stupid Monkey, you've ruined him for me!" 

He lost himself to the small sounds, the tiny nibbles, the touch of fingertips against heated skin. He forgot about Cat; he forgot about the loneliness of space; he forgot about being a hologram as his world narrowed to the man in his arms. He broke away to murmur, "I lied," and Lister answered tightly, "I know," before their mouths met again. 

It was a relief to no longer be pretending.

The End


End file.
